A Papercut
by Socrates7727
Summary: Healer Draco Malfoy! Harry Potter has an annoyingly frequent habit of getting injured during Draco's shifts at St. Mungo's. Written for the IWSC summer camp!


AN I don't own HP or any of the characters! Written for the IWSC Summer Camp!

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Story Title: A Papercut

Activity/Round: First aid- Once you start buying first aid kits you start having accidents.

Prompt: Write about someone being really clumsy and ending up in St Mungo's. (50 points)

Word Count: 915

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Sixty eight bloody times. Draco had walked into his patient's room and been greeted by Auror Potter sixty eight bloody times in the last year alone. It was ridiculous. No one, in the history of the Ministry, had ever been admitted to St. Mungo's with such frequency or such persistence. Most patients were glad to been seen at all, let alone arrogant enough to demand a particular Healer or a particular room the way Potter did. The staff had begun to leave that room vacant and prepped in anticipation of Potter's next injury. Utterly ridiculous.

Sure, every now and then Potter truly did get injured in the line of duty or by somehow managing to be more reckless than the Weasel—his partner—and Draco respectfully treated him in those situations. He was a healer, after all, so he would have been remiss not to.

But one did not get truly, honestly injured sixty eight times in one year. And, that same one did not innocently get sent to Draco every bloody time by accident. Which left Draco with two possible conclusions: one, that Potter truly was as reckless as he pretended to be and simply wouldn't die, or two, that Potter was somehow doing this on purpose. He leaned heavily towards the latter.

The scent of antiseptic greeted him like a slap in the face, alongside the telltale stench of bruisewort balm. Beneath that, though, he could smell fresh pine and broom wax, which was what told him which patient he was seeing before he even glanced at the chart.

"Auror Potter, what a surprise." Potter at least had the decency to look sheepish when Draco waltzed into his room. He shifted guiltily on the little healer's bench and tried to pretend that he hadn't just had his feet up on Draco's chair, reclining like this was his second home. With how often he visited, it might as well have been. He'd been lectured more than once about the important duties of Draco's job, and that he was in no way the Healer's only patient, but he still came. And he still threw a fit if anyone but Draco tried to see him.

"Hey, Draco, how are you?" Draco narrowed his eyes. They were not friends, despite Potter's clear attempts, but the first name always managed to throw him for a moment. Actually all of it managed to throw him, usually, from the familiar scent to the hum of magic in the air that only ever came from Potter. Even the casual, downright friendly attempt at conversation… No one spoke like that to him anymore. In lieu of dwelling on that fact, he turned to the charts in front of him.

"Merlin, Potter, you're in here for a bloody _papercut_?!" His annoyance was clear. Draco had grown resentfully used to Potter over years, and he'd even come to enjoy the man's company on the rare occasion. But that did not mean he would allow for any pointless wasting of his time.

"I couldn't be sure that it wasn't a Dark artefact, so I thought it was better safe than sorry, right?" Potter seemed much less safe and much more sorry, though. He tried for a sympathy smile, but Draco merely glared in response. This was ridiculous.

"It says here that you cut yourself on a field report that you were in the process of writing." Harry just swallowed and nodded. When Draco continued to stare expectantly at him, the Auror shifted in place and scratched at the scab already forming on his palm.

"Yeah, so?"

"So," Draco started, trying to dumb down his language and tone. "You cut yourself on a piece of paper like a first year and admitted yourself to the hospital for a wound you could have easily healed yourself."

"It could have been Dark—"

"It was a bloody papercut! From a piece of _paper_!"

"Documents can be Dark, you never—"

"Your _own_ documents?" Harry blushed, but didn't continue which was as close to surrender as Draco was ever going to get. The blond crossed his arms, glaring in only half annoyance the way he did with his pediatric patients, but Harry just stared at the floor. This whole thing was bloody ridiculous.

"Fine, give it here." Draco held out his hand, and wasn't surprised to immediately feel the warmth of Harry's palm against his own. Wordlessly, Draco healed the cut. They both stood there, connected, for a beat longer than necessary, though, and Draco felt the familiar swell of Harry's magic. It was like a tropical breeze that only he could feel. Secretly, it was something he looked forward to.

"It's ridiculous how often you're in here," Draco tried, but his voice was too soft to seem even slightly threatening. "You're a bloody nuisance. With the number of injuries you manage to get, you need a live in healer."

"Are you offering?" At that, Draco's head snapped up. Sure, they bickered and they joked whenever Harry came in but they'd never been so forward before. Maybe he'd thought there was a potential for some kind of peace or mutual truce down the road, but this? Was Harry… flirting with him?

"Thanks, but I already have a job." Harry said nothing, but Draco physically _felt_ his disappointment. "Besides, I get the sense that, if I were there, you would constantly find some way to hurt yourself. And I could never endorse that kind of behavior in a patient…"

"What about in a friend?"

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Thanks so much for reading!


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